First things first – The wedding was fantastic! It was literally perfect in every way I wanted, and I thank you all for your congratulations and well-wishes. I also wanted to thank you for being patient while I've been adjusting to my new life with my husband. It has its ups and downs, but I am happier and healthier than I've been in a long time. :)
Secondly – I swore to myself I would have this chapter out before the end of February, but uh… Well I mean, better late than never, I guess.
Thirdly – Replies!
Reply to SunnySides: We all know Thorin will be mad after the mountains. As for her saying anything about the Ring, you'll just have to see. ;) And I've heard that theory about the sickness before, I believe! It's always super interesting to hear thoughts on the One Ring and its effects on people.
Reply to Guest (Feb. 18): Tbh, I think your massive review is what helped spur me into finishing this chapter. I love how enthusiastic you are about Thorin and Jenna, and how hard you ship them. XD I've done that too with OCs in fics, where you just enjoy that pairing so much that it feels weird to ship them with anyone else. The fact that you feel that way about this fic makes me positively gleeful. And yes, her depression will definitely come into play again, just like it does irl. Unfortunately.
Anyways, you've all waited long enough.
Enjoy! :)
The Loudest Silence
Chapter Twenty-Four
Again, I dreamed not of demon dogs, but of pleasant, vague memories. To anyone else, my dream would have been inane visions of a charismatic, dark-haired woman building a small city of Legos with her niece, but to me, it was yet another soft pat on the head telling me everything was going to be fine. It was another good night's sleep, and I mentally thanked Galadriel when I awoke, for I could only assume it was still her doing. However long these peaceful nights lasted, I would gladly take them.
There was a different dilemma, though, that I was busy worrying over instead of bad dreams.
It was like my radio was specifically tuned to the Thorin station that morning, and it troubled me how I reacted when he showed up for breakfast. I was already seated – thanks to Bofur's grace at waking me on time – and as Thorin sat a little ways away, next to Dwalin as usual, I was so aware of his presence. I mean, the King exuded a powerful presence regardless, but it was like my heartbeat decided to imitate a Salsa dancer when I made to meet his eyes.
I was so sure – like, 95 percent sure – my body's reaction was only because of yesterday's bean spillage. (It had to be, because the other option was dumb. We weren't even going to think about it.) He was the only one in the Company who knew the truth now and I was no longer alone in my knowledge; to an extent, anyway. Anyone would be excited to have a confidant after weeks of suspicion and secrecy. It was normal to feel giddy and restless over something like that, wondering what the other is thinking after such information was dropped.
I didn't even notice just how wound up I was until Thorin read it on my face. He responded to whatever look I was giving with a calm one of his own, and a slight nod of greeting, before he also began breakfast.
The message was clear enough: All was still well. He hadn't changed his mind in the middle of the night, or decided I really couldn't be trusted. To a bystander, his expression would appear as his regular stoicism, but I felt the reassurance for what it was and relaxed at the sight, a smile forming on my face from the tiny show of support. I felt so light. I hadn't been ostracized or labeled as a traitor. I just… couldn't wrap my head around it, honestly.
Seated across from me, Balin became aware of the little exchange of looks, glancing between myself and his King.
I caught this as I was dampening down my smile, trying to smother it further when I saw the expression he was giving me.
"Come to an understanding of some sort, I presume?" Balin guessed, taking another biscuit from the quickly dwindling platter.
When I nodded, the old goat seemed genuinely happy, and didn't press further, which made me happy.
Over breakfast, Balin brought up my Iglishmêk. Even though I had improved by leaps and bounds out of my desperation to communicate, he said there were still plenty of things to learn, and I had to agree. While I could converse well, signing remained a stiff and formal process, so shortcuts and grammatical nuances were next on the agenda.
When the meal had finished, I stayed behind to work with Balin while the others departed. Of course, as Thorin stood from the table, I looked over to make sure we were still on the same page concerning the whole "story" thing, so to speak. There was still so much we had to talk about. I'm sure he had a metric ton of questions that I would wind up answering as best as I could, but I didn't feel afraid anymore. I was looking forward to spending more time with him, whether his questions would skirt the dangerous or the mundane.
With eye contact came the mutual understanding that we would talk later, when things slowed down. It wasn't a demand or a request on either side, but a simple knowledge, and he left the veranda.
During the Iglishmêk lesson following the meal, we were joined by Kili and, needless to say, Fili stayed as well. It was more for support on his brother's behalf and to help us practice than for any real need to learn, of course. Kili was improving as well from what I could tell, but then again, I wasn't exactly an expert on the subject just yet. It was a grasshopper judging a grasshopper.
While the session was about as exciting as watching paint dry, Fili and Kili were particularly antsy throughout the whole thing. Though I didn't question their mood, it was still a relief when we wrapped up an hour or two later and the boys could stop fidgeting like they were about to miss the Super Bowl.
The two young Dwarves had already hopped up from their seats when I stood as well, glancing between them and Balin, finally making the silent inquiry with my eyebrows.
"Many of the Company decided the time for resting was over," Balin explained before the others as he got to his feet. "Need to stay in top form, the way things are headed."
"They're going to train in the yard soon and we thought we'd join them," Fili said, and paused, then suggested to me thoughtfully, "Come to think of it, you should join us as well. With you trying to learn how to defend yourself, it certainly couldn't hurt."
I nodded, hesitant at first, but then excitedly. That actually sounded like it would be fun to watch, and practical to boot.
As we began making our way to the unofficially designated training area, Kili smiled in a mischievous way, and added, "You don't want to miss out if Uncle and Dwalin spar. They're really the only two who are enough of a challenge for each other."
Balin made a face at that, hands on his hips. "Now, I think I'd be able to handle my own brother for a couple of rounds. Perhaps even Thorin if I was feeling particularly bold," he said, giving me a look that said he may have been teasing about that last part.
'I would like to see that,' I joked back.
"Oh, lass," he smiled wryly. "You have too much faith in – "
"Gandalf would have to shave about seventy years off you for that match to last more than a few minutes," Kili teased, cutting in.
The white-haired Dwarf pursed his lips, seeming none too amused by this statement, and said, "Luckily for you, I don't believe our wizard can command the hands of time."
Fili chuckled, saying, "Why don't we have Jenna ask the Valar to do it? Since it seems she's on speaking terms with them and all."
Kili gave a short laugh at that and clapped Fili's shoulder, quickly correcting, "Brother, she's not on speaking terms with anyone!"
I rolled my eyes painfully hard and then turned to glare at the grinning brunette. These jokes are quickly becoming staler than the bread I left in my apartment…
When we arrived at the yard, I began counting heads and was surprised to find the whole Company had gathered (excepting Gandalf, but was he technically part of the Company? I mean, we never counted him in our number, so…). Uh, either way.
By some work of magic, Bofur had gotten Bilbo to tag along even though I'm sure fighting was the last thing on the Hobbit's mind – especially while he was surrounded by the Elven wonder that was Rivendell. Close by them were Bombur and Bifur, so I made my way over to the little group as Fili and Kili split off with Balin towards the more active looking half of the yard.
Several of the Dwarves had already brought out their weapons, either to clean or to use in training or both. Dwalin was inspecting his battle axes with a similar care that I'm sure a mother would employ when dealing with her children, while Gloín was also doing the same with his axe, and by this point, Fili and Kili had found their weapons in an organized pile nearby. I supposed the others had kindly brought them out while we were practicing Iglishmêk, making it all the easier for the boys to join in as soon as we had finished.
Of course, there was also Thorin standing out there, pretending Orcrist didn't have him totally enamored with each test swing of the curved blade. He had already used the sword during our run to Rivendell to chop down several foes, and though he tried hard to look unimpressed with its performance, we all knew.
Even without his long fur-lined coat twirling out with his movements, Thorin was still every bit as noble and imposing with a weapon. It was fascinating to watch, seeing as how the only other times he used a sword around me, I had kind of been preoccupied with my near-death trauma and sheer panic. He knew what he was doing, that much was obvious.
Seated next to each other on the grass, Bilbo and I watched the Company, neither of us knowing for sure what to do besides observe. The Ur family was nearby, with Bofur chatting animatedly to his kin even if they had little to say back. After a while though, Bilbo readjusted slightly, and it took me a moment to realize he was looking down at the item he'd brought to the yard; his short Elven sword, Soon-To-Be-Sting, still in its sheath. Oh? Did he intend to practice?
I smiled softly when he sniffed in consternation, his nose giving a little wiggle.
He noticed out of the corner of his eye that my attention was on him and he sat up a little straighter, looking back out to the yard, faking nonchalance as he said, "It's a shame I've no skill with this sort of thing – it's just a lovely sword and yet I'll likely never use it."
My chin dipped as my lips went into a straight, tight line. Yeah okay, sure, buddy.
This expression didn't go without notice, obviously, and Bilbo questioned, "You believe otherwise?"
Shrugging, I gestured vaguely to one of the distant mountain walls protecting us. I then bared my teeth in imitation of a growl while bringing up my two index fingers next to my mouth, curled like fangs.
"I do suppose you have a point…" Bilbo sighed, a tiny frown forming. "There's no telling what will happen once we leave Rivendell, with those – those things after us."
Er... The doubt creeping its way into his tone made me spread my hand towards the garden, reassuring him with the scene before us. In case he had forgotten, we were travelling with some of the hardiest (and hairiest) dudes known to Middle Earth.
Bilbo's confidence in our chance at survival seemed to boost slightly for the time being, satisfying me.
Kili was getting in some simple target practice with a distant tree, and Fili had joined his uncle in a light sparring session, and Dwalin had taken Gloín up on some combat as well. Dori had also begun to look over his strangely shaped sword, though to be honest, I didn't even know he had one, and Nori was lackadaisically messing around with some small knives. Ori had come to sit on the other side of Bilbo ages ago, not even really into the weapons thing.
I tried to watch everyone and take in the multiple fighting stances they practiced, the different weapons, and how to use them, but my attention kept going back to Thorin and Fili. Though he was still stern, there was a lightness to Thorin's expressions while interacting with his nephew; small smiles and crinkles at the edges of his eyes. I could tell he wasn't going all out in this warm-up of sorts, but that didn't mean he wasn't exerting himself. Fili was a talented fighter, having learned from the best, after all, and I knew one day he would be just as experienced as his uncle.
I had to admit, the whole thing was kind of super adorable – though I doubt they would appreciate me calling any aspect of their combat 'adorable' – but it shot more flutters into my stomach, which I quickly excused as normal. Anyone would think happily of such a scene.
They paused in their fighting to look over when Dwalin toppled Gloín, a few of the crew getting a good laugh when the latter blamed it on the sound of a poorly-played flute somewhere distracting him. As Gloín stood again, I could indeed hear the faint music that had simply become background noise at this point.
Shortly after that, things were switched around a little bit, with Dwalin challenging Thorin in a good tussle. I had never seen them just flat-out not use weapons, choosing to 'wrestle' in this instance. It seemed like a very Dwarvish thing to do. Or maybe just a guy thing, even.
Either way, it attracted attention, and the others chose this time to take a break and watch. Their illustrious leader and his right hand man having a ball just trying to pin the other for more than a few seconds was amusing to them, though I was kind of cringing the entire time. It wasn't like they were actually getting hurt or anything – quite the contrary, as Thorin and Dwalin looked to be in great spirits no matter who was getting thrown down. I was just a big weenie.
"You two've not seen very many fights, have you?" Bofur piped up from behind us.
Bilbo and I turned, glancing at one another, and I saw the Hobbit had a very similar face as I did after the last takedown. I realized Bofur was addressing both of us, so I shook my head.
"The same for me," Bilbo answered, taking a peek back to where Thorin officially had Dwalin down for the count. "Brawling is not exactly a popular – ah, pastime in the Shire."
From his seat near his cousins, Bifur grumbled, "Makkashúl," with an accompanying sign that I was able to make out as a sarcastic, 'Surprise.'
I snorted a laugh, getting the gist of what he was saying, and his eyes seemed to light up a bit at the partial recognition of his statement.
"Be nice, Bifur. Not all of us are the fightin' sort," Bofur threw out casually, a smile cropping up at the interaction.
"Who's not the fighting sort?" asked Kili, coming over with his brother.
"Hobbits. Hobbits are not the fighting sort," Bilbo answered a little sharply.
Kili had one hand on his hip, lazily throwing out the other hand to gesture to me, "Well neither is she, really, but that's not stopping her from trying to learn how to protect herself. No offense."
I shrugged it off. Truth.
Bilbo stared at Kili for a long moment, like he was thinking really hard about something, and then he turned his gaze to me. I shrank back a little uncertainly.
A few seconds passed before he stood from his spot. "Alright then," Bilbo said, sighing so quietly that I think I was the only one who heard him. "It couldn't hurt to… learn a few things. I suppose. If you're willing to teach them."
"Of course. It would our pleasure," Fili responded for the both of them, seeing as how he would more than likely be the one doing the teaching.
He gestured for Bilbo to hand him the Elven sword, so he could take a look at it. Unsheathing the blade, Fili weighed it in his hand before glancing around the garden, spotting a tree. I knew exactly where this was going and within a few minutes, Bilbo was standing across from Fili, armed with a stick the same length as his sword.
While Fili got started on showing Bilbo a few things, Kili came closer and asked if I would like to go a round or two with him using our trusty sticks. I took him up on the offer, of course, though felt very self-conscious when I got out further into the garden. Everyone was either watching me or Bilbo, since Thorin and Dwalin had finished, and I found myself unable to concentrate. We weren't exactly the best follow-up after trained warriors.
"Jenna, come on now," Kili said with some amount of disappointment. "You were doing much better than this before."
I shrugged helplessly, not wanting to tell him why I was doing poorly. It was only the Company watching, for Pete's sake. I had walked out in front of them without pants before, so why was this bothering me?
Oh, right. I didn't want them to see my bad knife skills and think I was useless. Bad as in actually bad, in this case.
Speaking of terrible fighting skills, I glanced over several times to check in on how Bilbo was doing. This distraction probably contributed to part of my awful practice during this time, as well.
Fili and Bilbo went through very similar stances as what I had been put through, with minor adjustments since Bilbo would be working with a sword and not a dagger, no matter how small said sword was. The poor Hobbit just looked so terribly awkward throughout it all, and I was beginning to think maybe there really was a reason Hobbits didn't fight. Especially when he was practicing a cutting motion too fast with too loose of a grip, and the stick was flung backwards, smacking an unsuspecting Ori in the face.
"Ow! My eye!" Ori yelped.
As Dori flocked over to his little brother, I cupped a hand over my mouth at the situation, meeting Bilbo's mortified gaze before he awkwardly stepped over also, his hands balled up at his sides as he asked if Ori was alright.
The young Dwarf was rubbing his eye, but said, "I'll be fine in a minute. Just caught me off guard, is all."
"Maybe you shouldn't let your guard down while we're training then," Dori warned, somehow both scolding and caring. He was good at that double-layered tone.
"I am terribly sorry, Ori," Bilbo apologized profusely for the umpteenth time, well aware that he had likely sparked some ire from multiple sources.
As Ori was reassuring Bilbo that everything was alright and that he wasn't going to go blind, I caught sight of one of those sources, some meters away. Even from a slight distance, Thorin's rigid opinion of the Hobbit remained obvious as ever, certainly not helped by a stick flying into the eye of his Company scribe. Ori was fine, though – But thank the deities that it hadn't been the actual letter opener, or I don't think quick forgiveness would have been on the menu.
Like he sensed an appraisal of his attitude coming from somebody, Thorin glanced my way. I didn't try to hide the fact that I'd been watching his sour frown, in fact making it more obvious that I had been staring on purpose.
'All have to start somewhere,' I signed to him a little more subtly than usual, my stick held under my arm to free my hands. I kept my expression light in the hopes that I could diffuse some of his bristling, though most of others were too busy watching the Ori situation to notice our exchange anyway.
To say that my attempt to calm Thorin worked would be a gross overstatement, though he did look seconds away from aiming a biting remark towards Bilbo before. In response to my placid words, Thorin's grimace merely shifted in tone, down-stepping from a loathing of the Hobbit to the usual dissatisfaction with him instead.
I tilted my head slightly with a half smile, in a sort of, 'Thanks for not blowing up over a twig' kind of way.
Thorin gave a look that made me believe he was thinking about the absurdity of the book title again, then he glanced at Bilbo once more and turned away altogether.
Baby steps. That whole… thing would work itself out eventually. As it was meant to. I hoped. Like I didn't have enough on my plate, I didn't need the responsibility of structuring out friendships as well.
After that, things seemed to wind down a bit. The Company had gotten in a few hours of training at least, with lunch creeping up quickly, and after the flying stick fiasco, the steam was lost anyway. Everyone who brought out their weapons packed them away again, returning them to their little camping area before it was time for food.
I took care to engage Bilbo a little at lunch, as he seemed down since he had promptly given up training as soon as Ori had been poked in the eye. Seeing as how Bilbo couldn't speak Iglishmêk, though, really all I could do to begin things was smile and wave as I sat next to him, letting his own nature take its course.
He gave a tight-lipped smile back, a miniscule sigh barely slipping out before he said quietly, "I really don't know what happened. One moment the stick is in my hand, and the next – why, I always knew my grip wasn't anything to boast of, but…"
My abrupt patting on his shoulder caused him to trail off, and I shook my head with a face that told him it was no big deal. The Dwarves around us were back to their usual selves, and I glanced around with purpose to show him that nobody was holding grudges. I looked Ori's way, barely half a table from us, and the scribe perked up when he noticed our attention was on him.
Ori smiled and gave a small wave with his fork, to which Bilbo seemed to relax on sight of as he waved back.
Once we had all departed from the lunch table, in thanks for the effort to cheer him up, Bilbo offered to show me some interesting areas that he had found on his wanderings. I gladly welcomed the break from Iglishmêk, and training, and just the overall drama since Rivendell was truly a gorgeous place and I enjoyed getting to spend time with my Hobbit friend. Every little decoration seemed to spark liveliness in him that was similar to the interest he'd shown in the topic of Elves when he had spoke about them at the start of our journey. Prior to being shut down by my abrupt wet willy, that was.
Bilbo took me to one of the higher balconies that had a beautiful – and terrifying – view of the majority of Imladris. When he noticed my discomfort at the height, he promptly chose to show me some cute gardens instead.
A while later through our walk, closer to evening, Bilbo asked if it was alright if he split off to go to the library before dinner, and of course it was fine, but I continued to wander on my own. Once I had started marveling at the architecture, I couldn't really stop. The hallways I wound through were more shaded, the tilt of the afternoon sunlight unable to reach the half of the building I was in, making it slightly cool in temperature. It felt great. Chill, but not cold.
I hadn't really, truly explored Imladris, partially because there hadn't been an appropriate time and partially because I was afraid of wandering into an Elf's room by accident. It's not like the residential area had a sign or anything, and I couldn't read Sindarin anyway, so I had to be careful of my manners.
Back home, of course I owned the extended editions of the Hobbit movies. It didn't matter that in order to buy them I had to skip out on a few groceries here and there, because extended editions. (My priorities have always been a little whack.) This being said, I knew that the Dwarves were going to use a gigantic water fountain to skinny dip in eventually. I just didn't know when. Or where it was. I hadn't seen any sign of that fountain the entire time we had been there, and I assumed that if they were going to use it, they would have already done so, and I wouldn't have to worry about accidentally finding it at the wrong time.
No, nah, of course not.
I didn't go looking for the fountain on purpose, obviously, though in hindsight it made perfect sense that the Company would be there. They had been training all day and sweating, so a nice cool bath would be in perfect order. Just, not in a bath tub.
I heard water and lots of hollering, but that wasn't abnormal. Rivendell had tons of waterfalls and pools and things, and with the Company here, random 'hollering' was common. However, it didn't really occur to me what I might stumble upon until after I had rounded a corner, stepping outside to see a giant water fountain built into the mountain side. It was architecturally very pretty and I'm sure some Elves worked very hard to get it looking so nice, but I'll be honest – I was kind of distracted by the all the naked Dwarves splashing about.
Oops.
To say I backpedaled quickly is an understatement. I was hoping desperately, as I ducked my head and nearly tripped over myself to get back in the doorway, that none of the guys had seen me. Even though, y'know, I definitely saw them. Oh my god, had I seen them. Thank goodness the fountain wasn't closer to the building or I would never have been able to meet their eyes ever again.
My face was already an absolute simmering mess as I fled, but then I turned down a hallway too sharply. With my head down, vision aimed the floor, there was no stopping the collision until both my hands were already flying up instinctively, slapping the bare chest of the person in front of me with a wet 'smack'. Their hands had automatically come up in the crash as well, helping to steady me with a light grip on either of my arms without really thinking about it.
When I looked up, I… I blanked.
Thorin was also taken aback my sudden appearance, eyes a bit wider than usual, plainly not expecting to see me in this area. I probably looked like some kind of pervert, scurrying away from the fountain in such a hurry, my face having summoned all the blood in my body to form an incredibly damning blush.
It was obvious he had been swimming with the others at some point. His wavy hair was soaked, dripping down into the curls of his chest hair and onto… my hands. Oh – oh my godohmygod –
I seriously thought I would die on the spot when I realized my palms were still planted on his exposed pecs. Thorin seemed to realize this at the same time I did, letting go of my arms as we took a good step back from each other, me hastily pulling my hands from his person and wiping the water on my sweats like it would get rid of the feeling of his warm chest, too. That was the last thing I needed to memorize the feeling of right now.
There was some measure of mercy in the world at least, relief flowing through me when I saw in my peripheral that he was indeed wearing pants, unlike the others that were still in the fountain. My eyes had flown to a nearby wall, and I honestly – really – did try to keep my gaze averted, but I also noticed several things about Thorin's person that caught my attention (besides the… rippling muscles… and the strong arms… Oh, Mahal knew what he was doing when he made this one. Yep.).
Firstly were the scars. It made so much sense that he had them, but actually seeing physical evidence of the battles he had fought and the tough life he had lived was oddly humbling. There were many small marks scattered about – on his chest, arms, stomach. Then there were the few larger, more prominent scars that interfered with the dark fuzz in some places that I'm sure had stories behind them.
Secondly were the tattoos. One was placed squarely upon his left breast, the angular profile image of a raven made of the sharp patterning so familiar to Dwarves. Its wing was stretched out towards Thorin's shoulder in flight, and there was a royal sigil on its side that I recognized from the belt buckle he usually wore. The other tattoo wound around his right bicep. It was bolder, with a symbol on the outside that looked like a crown, several pointed stars hovering above it. Even without being able to count all of them going around his arm, I knew there were seven.
My eyes were glued to the wall again immediately afterwards, as all of these observations took place in a matter of seconds. It was hardly enough to be considered ogling, and probably no more time than it took Thorin to avert his own gaze back in Bree, but when that particular memory surfaced once more, an impishness came over me that I didn't know I could have in such a situation, allowing my embarrassment to meld into something closer to amusement.
There was a long, awkward silence, broken only by Thorin clearing his throat. He had collected himself again just fine, calmly giving a greeting of, "Miss Hollander."
I pursed my lips, nodding in return.
"Was there something you needed?" he asked.
My gaze darted over to his face briefly, very deliberately avoiding the other parts of him, as I shook my head and said, 'Took a wrong turn.'
His chin lifted slightly in an almost-nod.
More silence, filled only by the background noise of our companions splashing around.
That was also about when we heard wet footsteps from behind me.
"Thorin, I swear either of those two lands on my head again, you aren't gonna have anymore heirs left by the time we – !" came the grumbling call of Dwalin, before he actually rounded the corner from the same direction I had come, and cut off when he spotted me.
I didn't turn to look, instead glancing at Thorin with slightly wide eyes.
The King easily took in the silent question I was throwing him. Thorin barely moved his head, just enough to peek around me at Dwalin, before the corners of his eyes creased with the vaguest hint of mirth as he looked back to me. A small shake of his head was all the answer I needed. Dwalin wasn't wearing pants.
A part of my soul ascended as I shoved my face into my hands.
"We forgot to warn the lass after lunch, didn't we?" Dwalin realized, but I could hear the amusement in his tone.
"Aye," Thorin said. "We did." There was an airiness there that was half apology on my part and half poking fun at the situation, before his propriety got the better of him and he tacked on a, "Dwalin" that obviously meant, 'Go put some pants on or something.'
I stuck up a hand before anyone left, waving it and shaking my head nonchalantly to get the point across that I was leaving anyway and they didn't need to stop their fun on my behalf.
However, that little devil in the back of my mind wouldn't let me go yet. As I made my way past Thorin, I cheekily angled myself to sign to him – without looking in Dwalin's direction – promptly throwing him under the bus.
'We are now even for Bree.'
I couldn't tell if Thorin was embarrassed I had brought that up again or annoyed or both, but his face was worth it.
From down the hall a few seconds after my departure, I heard the question from Dwalin, "What'd she mean by that?" and couldn't help my snuffles of mischievous giggling as I scurried away. If Thorin replied, I didn't hear it.
Only later, once I reached my guest room, did I allow myself to become a little self-conscious and question my sanity. A month ago, maybe even just a week ago, I never would have dreamed of saying something like that to Thorin. Did simply telling him about the story really lighten my shoulders that much? Or was my growing comfort around Thorin finally just allowing me to behave as casually with him as I did the others? Perhaps it was both.
Not long after I had bathed for the evening, getting ready for dinner, Nadri stopped by. My hair was still thoroughly wet when she knocked on the door and I opened it for her, probably looking like a scraggly puppy.
"I came to ask if you would like your garments to be cleaned again," she explained politely. "We could not help but notice you all were practicing in the gardens today."
Oh. Well, I didn't really get too dirty or anything, but… I glanced down at my clothes and shrugged, nodding. It couldn't hurt to have them washed again, especially since we were heading out in only two days.
That thought shook me a little. We were leaving the safety of Rivendell in two days.
Just, uh… Don't think about it, I told myself as I handed over my clothes, having Nadri help me put on another corset thing for dinner while my bra was being laundered. I was loaned the same pale blue dress that I wore my first evening there, and it still fit just as awkwardly, but at least I was more mentally stable this time. I'd had a few days to process my encounter with the satanic kennel club and made my decision about the journey so my guilt wasn't eating me alive anymore. That certainly helped.
When I showed up for dinner though, I was abruptly reminded of what I'd said to Thorin earlier.
I tried to play it off like I wasn't concerned that I had overstepped some line with my teasing, but upon making eye contact with him sitting at the table, my air of playfulness turned into something more sheepish.
Thorin didn't seem to be upset. I mean, until Dwalin saw and started snickering, causing Thorin to look at him in a way that could probably slay a lesser being. This lead me to assume Thorin had allowed Dwalin the knowledge of what transpired in the Prancing Pony, though blessedly, I doubted he went into any detail about it.
Either way, Thorin's ire wasn't aimed at me, so I skedaddled to my seat in blissful innocence while the gettin' was good.
Dinner was just as meatless as every other meal we'd had around here, leaving me craving a cheeseburger more than I ever had in my entire life, and there were a few comments about my being back in the Elven dress during supper as well. I found myself having to assure them it wasn't just because I suddenly liked the finery. (Not that I would have minded cute dresses one bit, had the Elves only had a goddamn plus option.)
'Clothes are being cleaned,' I told those at my table who were interested.
Bofur clicked his tongue smugly, saying, "Ah – ye see? Knew she wasn't turnin' rogue on us."
"Speaking of turning rogue," came Nori's conspiratorial muttering, "we were gonna cook up more of those sausages tonight, after this farce of a dining experience. You in?"
I nearly turned starry-eyed at the prospect, seeing as how the last time we had meat, my appetite hadn't been the best. Nodding immediately, I earned a laugh from Nori at the look of yearning on my face.
"Bring your glass, too," he added lowly, side-eying an Elf that passed our table.
I wasn't sure why, but brought my drinking glass anyway when we slowly relocated our gathering to the guest area the Company was occupying. The mystery was solved when Nori rolled a massive barrel from nowhere and suddenly wine was being distributed, though I had an odd feeling the Elves weren't privy to this information.
'Where did this come from?' I asked Balin off to the side of the room, trusting his judgment on the situation.
The concern was apparent in my entire posture, and his reply eased some of my uncertainties about the borrowed wine. "Don't worry your head over it too much, lass," he reassured me. "If it eases your mind, we'll reimburse 'em for their provisions once we've got our shares from the mountain. For now, one barrel will hardly be missed."
That made sense, I supposed, and I let it drop. Up until this point, I had only ever taken a few sips of the strong Elvish wine during our meals, knowing full well what it could do to an inexperienced partaker, but I finally let myself enjoy it that night. We would be back on the road in no time and the likelihood of my demise was high, so might as well get turnt at least once in Middle Earth.
The little camping nook was a cacophony of laughter and people talking over each other, then joining conversations with the ones talking over them. I found a spot in the almost-circle around the fire (it was really too disorderly to be considered a circle), using what I believed to be Fili's bedroll to sit on, doubling it up to act as a cushion. It was confirmed to be his spot when the blonde came back from getting a refill of wine only to find me planted on his sleeping bag.
I shrugged with a cheap smile and then stuck my tongue out, not willing to budge.
Fili gained an air of mischievous payback, grabbing one of the decorative Elven pillows strewn about instead and tossed it almost on my leg. I barely had time to scoot over enough to where he didn't land on me when he plopped down, throwing a smirk of victory over his shoulder, one of his braids nearly whacking me in the face with his sudden turn.
I gave him a tiny shove of mock anger, trying not to slosh my wine everywhere. This was made almost impossible by the fact that his brother chose that moment to also sit down next to me, on the other side, officially squashing me between them.
Judging by their simultaneous laughter at the look on my face, they thought this was the epitome of comedy.
They eventually scooted outwards a little bit and offered me some actual room over the course of the evening, though I think this may have been due to their constant movement while talking. We each had a few sausages – I enjoyed mine far more than I probably should have – and whenever I needed more wine, I just sent my cup over with either Fili or Kili, depending on who was getting up.
I had been vaguely aware of Thorin the entire time, of course, because why would life be easy. He was seated with Balin and Dwalin – shocker – on the outer edge of the circle, enjoying wine as the rest of us were. When Thorin stood and excused himself, my irritating radar went off to let me know that Mister Majestic was on the move.
I suppose my awareness of his presence was handy in this instance, for when I glanced around a few moments later, wondering where he'd gone, I located him standing next to an archway in the hall. Well, not just standing I realized, but waiting. I could tell this from the way he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, though his manner didn't come across as impatient.
Our eyes met and I suddenly remembered our 'silent agreement' to talk later tonight. And I guess it was technically later. I turned back to look down at my glass of wine briefly, trying to remember how many I'd had. Was this my fourth? Or third? Er… fifth?
Yikes.
Standing up wasn't too terrible; it was simply an exercise in maintaining balance when the ground felt a little too wobbly to be made of stone. I think I managed to make it look more nonchalant than the effort actually was though. Hopefully.
This wasn't the first time I'd had a few drinks, since my birthday was in June and I had been of the legal age for almost a year now (and it hurt my head to try and figure out if time was moving the same as back on regular Earth, so I stopped that train of thought prematurely. That was a conundrum for Sober!Jenna). Most of the alcohol I'd had was few and far between, in the privacy of my own home, and though I had been out drinking with Hazel as a belated birthday celebration once (because it was difficult for her to make it on my actual birthday), it hardly counted as extended experience. Drinking with your whacky best friend at TGI Friday's was a little different than drinking with an exiled Dwarf king in a fantasy realm.
Again, yikes.
While Thorin had long ago finished with his own beverage, I approached him with my glass in hand regardless, knowing that if I left it, the thing would be either empty or broken when I got back. I smiled a bit and inclined my head, glancing down the hallway and back at him to signal I would follow if he still wanted to talk. He gave his own slight nod before dropping his crossed arms and stepping away from the wall.
We didn't go that far from the Company; just took a few hallways to find an unoccupied veranda with a bench. It overlooked a simple, dark little garden with a creek running beside it, probably flowing to join the waterfalls, and the sconces on the back wall of the balcony itself were already lit, fortunately for us.
Thorin waited for me to take a seat on the right side of the stone bench before doing the same on the left. While we weren't overly close to each other, the proximity was comfortable and the silence was calm. Odd, considering the last time we were this close was a mere handful of hours prior and he had been intensely shirtless.
Way to go, Jenna. You weren't thinking about it, and now you definitely are. Thanks, I scolded myself internally. My cheeks were already a little warm from the alcohol. As if I needed help making them more so.
Thorin seemed a little less… severe, than I expected him to be. We had come out here to speak of the story, I assumed, but he wasn't as tense as he normally would have been before bringing up my plethora of secrets. It wasn't necessarily anything specific he was doing that gave me this impression, just the way he held himself. The way his face wasn't so creased in the places that generally spoke of his stress. Maybe it was just the wine helping him chill a little bit, too, like it was me.
Except he could handle it a teeny bit better.
I realized I was staring at Thorin like a doof when he glanced over and I blinked a few times, looking down at my glass instead. No, wait, looking away was going to be even more suspicious, so I turned my head back towards him.
He gave a huff through his nose that was almost a laugh, causing me to frown a little in confusion, but this only appeared to amuse him further. It took me a second to understand what was funny and I became slightly embarrassed.
I set my glass down beside me on the bench, turning back to face Thorin so I could sign sheepishly and a bit slowly, 'I do not drink often.'
"Clearly," he replied, his tone suggesting he had noticed this quite a while ago.
My automatic reaction was to say, 'Sorry.'
Thorin looked at me strangely, starting to notice I said that quite a bit. "You do not have to apologize."
'But you want to know more,' I squinted at my hands, trying to remember the right gestures while my head felt a bit floaty. 'About things? And I am…'
"Do not feel guilt for enjoying what little time we have left here," he told me, pacifying my worry over being a little tipsy. "It's true that I have questions. However, I have thought it over many times since yesterday, and if what you said is to be believed, then you know more than any what awaits us."
Ugh… Yeah, that I did. I stared straight ahead into the abyss for a moment, completely still as I recalled what was to come. Goblins, Giant Spiders, Azog, Elves… and more Wargs. My nose wrinkled. Quickly snagging my drink from the bench and taking a giant gulp said more than I ever could have.
Thorin gave a long sigh at my obvious anxiety and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the garden below. "How reassuring," he muttered, introducing me to a level of sarcasm I didn't know existed. Eventually, his gaze came back my direction as he asked, "The road ahead is truly so upsetting?"
Staring down at my glass cradled in the middle of my chest, I shrugged in a wishy-washy way, my head wobbling to convey that I wasn't sure how to put it. On one hand, yeah, the Company was to go through tons of danger and gruesome scary things that would likely give me more nightmares, but nobody dies on the trip. No. That was only later. On the other hand, a few of them were going to get injured (Thorin himself, for one) and anything could happen. Anything could change because of my presence, like what happened with Gavin and Jean.
"And you're certain you cannot tell me why?" Thorin questioned. While he was being quite patient, all things considered, it still didn't make a lot of sense on his end. "You cannot say what worries you about the future of this quest?"
After sipping my drink more, I set it down again and took a long, deep breath, exhaling a little shortly. It wasn't irritation at him or anything, it was more of me just trying to find the right thing to say. In the end, my answer was still a simple, 'Not yet.'
It was obvious he expected as much, turning back to the garden after watching the response from my hands. His discontent with my answer remained, visible in the way his shoulders were too tense, and the way his nostrils flared when he breathed to calm himself. Something about Thorin's actions told me he didn't want to be angry right now. Was he really just trying to chill tonight? That thought was almost laughable. The dude was stress incarnate – he ran off of stress. If he wasn't stressed, I figured he would just poof out of existence.
Still, it bothered me that I couldn't reassure him somehow. Thorin had done so much for me already. He had been patient through my secrecy, saved my life, comforted me, carried me to bed – as weird as that one was to think about. He had humored my pinky promises, no matter how stupid they must seem to him, and even when I admitted to knowing of the bloody trolls and wargs and orcs, he kept my secret.
My hand began moving on its own, careful and hesitant. I don't even think I realized what I was doing until I was pressing the hand softly on Thorin's sleeve, giving a gentle squeeze to the mid part of his arm. He turned his head in mild surprise, and I met his blue eyes with all my shutters open, with as honest of an expression as I knew how to give.
We stayed that way for a moment. I didn't want to take my hand from his arm, but I had to, fingers reluctantly sliding from the fabric so I could calmly tell him, 'Not yet. But one day.'
He watched the motions of my words, taking them in before he looked back to my face. A search for any sign of deception ensued, as was his way, and he found nothing untoward in my eyes because there was nothing. I literally just wanted to help.
I was hopeful when Thorin gradually adjusted to sitting up straighter again, glancing at my shoulder. The tiny mountain made of ink was poking out above my dress sleeve.
"Why did you choose such a tattoo?" he asked, purposefully guiding the topic elsewhere.
This earned a small smile of thanks from me, and I answered thoughtfully, 'I like maps and… I liked this story.'
Thorin seemed off-put when I referenced the quest as a story again, as if he wanted to believe only certain aspects of my truth. Me just knowing the future was simply more plausible than me knowing the future because it was written out in a book somewhere. "What about the… story did you enjoy?" he questioned, seeing if my answer would give away the end result of their endeavor. Maybe I liked it because of a happy ending or something.
Thankfully I caught this, even in my state, giving him a lightheartedly dubious look to make it obvious that I noticed.
The microscopic tilt of his head and the gentle quirk of his brows conveyed that 'I had to try at least once more' look. It almost came across as teasing.
I shook my head a little, my smile growing when I finally replied to why I liked the story with, 'The adventure.'
"Adventure?" Thorin asked, less impressed, like it trivialized their entire mission.
Nodding, I continued to explain fondly regardless. 'My aunt… got me the book when I was little. I did not get to go far from home a lot, so we would play in the yard like… we were going to Erebor.'
Expression relaxed again, Thorin became further interested upon this mention of his home.
'The journey was what I liked most, because of all that is seen,' I said, having to stop myself from mentioning when Aunt Laura would pretend to be a giant eagle and I would ride on her back. That would raise a few questions I couldn't answer right now. Instead, I mused with a wry face, 'It is very different when you are really on this journey.'
"Indeed. A story it may be in your world, but here it is not," he cautioned softly, though still seemed curious about something. "You may very well lose your life on this adventure, Miss Hollander."
'I know,' I said, huffing a bit at his inflection in the last part. 'I am not going for fun.'
"Why then?" he asked.
I paused, staring at him as I tried to understand. Why… what? Why help them? Was that really a question right now? My face had to have shown my bafflement at the inquiry. 'Because it is the right thing to do. You want to go home, want a good place for your people. Is that not enough?'
The way Thorin was looking at my hands told me no, that wasn't enough – nobody just did things because they were the 'right' thing to do. He didn't bother saying as much though, so I continued.
'Your quest… Made me feel brave, when I was... not.' Ugh, how was I supposed to explain how many times The Hobbit inspired me to keep going? How many times I found encouragement through Thorin's determination? How was I supposed to explain depression without just making it sound like I got sad a lot? Maybe one day I would be okay with telling him about all that, but I didn't want to come across as weak right now. I finished instead by saying, 'You have done so much, worked hard. You make… others want to do the same. You are a great leader.'
Still watching my hands, the corner of Thorin's lip quirked as my words ended. He was smiling a little, though I could tell it was not about what I had said specifically when he also signed, 'Great.'
Confused, I started to sign, 'Great' again.
Midway through, Thorin carefully reached over, readjusting the angle of my hands with a look of amusement. When his fingers gently slid away with a brush, I almost forgot what I was even supposed to be signing.
"What you had before was 'goat'," he said, a smirk still playing on his face.
Goat leader. Awesome.
I snorted, a grin of my own cropping up. The stuttering of my heart over the small contact was silly, somehow worse when the touch was on purpose and not on accident (like my paws on his bare chest earlier, for one), but I ignored it in favor of laughing at my signing mistake.
Thorin was also humored for a good while after, the conversation coming to a pause as we remembered where we were before goats got involved. I took another sip of my wine as I waited, letting Thorin think on his next words. The longer the pause went on, though, the more his smile seemed to fade into his usual solemnity, and I set my drink down again to show my full attention.
"While it is flattering you believe me to be a great leader," he said, a slight lilt on the word I had gotten wrong, "It leaves me to question the verity of your book."
I frowned in the slightest, giving a tilt of my head.
In explanation, Thorin said, "I have merely done what I must in order for my people to survive, Miss Hollander. They've been dealt hardship and grief beyond measure – and there is now hope to secure a promising future for them in Erebor. So, I will continue to do what I must, for that is what leaders do. It does not make them great."
'Many leaders… do not think that way,' I told him, more careful with my Iglishmêk forms, but also more tentative. 'Many would not risk their life for their people and put… themselves first.'
Thorin had a slight scowl. "Then they are not leaders; they are fools," he remarked. "If your people do not come first, then you will lose them. A leader means nothing if you have wasted the loyalty of those who follow."
It seemed like every time I almost – almost – forgot just who he was, Thorin Oakenshield would show me again. And damn if I wouldn't follow this guy to the ends of the earth because of it, too.
I knew I was staring again, though I didn't try to hide it as Thorin glanced over at me when he realized as much. His eyebrows furrowed slightly in question, like he didn't understand why I was so impressed, and I just wound up shaking my head a bit with a smile to say that it was nothing.
The discussion lapsed into silence once more, and while I'm not sure what was going through his mind, I knew what I was curious about. Despite the flush that rose up to my cheeks at the thought, I wanted to ask about his tattoos in return for asking about mine. I hesitated though, despite feeling a little more sober. Was that polite? Did it matter, seeing as how he had done the same thing? I supposed the cases were a little different and that's mostly what was stopping me, but it didn't matter in the end, because my chance to ask about his tattoos that evening was lost.
Below us, a light flickered to life in the garden, and then another on a post beside the bench farther out, illuminating the dark-haired Elf woman who was lighting them. The babbling of the stream was a perfect background noise for reading, so I couldn't blame her for coming out here with a book in her hand. Thorin, of course, was already scowling. I wondered briefly if he was really enjoying our time out here so much or if he was just peeved about Elves interrupting in general, but then the lady turned around and I saw her face. Her pale, beautiful, very familiar face.
I gasped, shooting up from my seat in surprise, forgetting about my delicate glass beside me. The drink toppled off the bench and shattered on the stone, splattering red wine all over the skirt of my dress, and the noise notified the woman that she wasn't alone.
Arwen – Arwen Undómiel – lifted her head to look up at the balcony.
My gaze darted back and forth between Arwen standing in the garden and the broken glass at my feet as I grew flustered, embarrassed at not only my reaction, but the result as well. I dove down, crouching to pick up the larger chunks of my mess. It was only sheer luck that the surrounding banister and the higher angle hid most of my panicked state from the Elf.
Thorin was more than a little confused at my sudden chaos. As far as he was concerned, Arwen was just another pointy-eared immortal. Regardless of how strange I was acting though, he stepped over to assist in my clean up, probably convinced that I was about to accidentally cut myself with how fast I was trying to gather it all.
As he kneeled down to the same level I was at, I stopped picking up glass long enough for our eyes to meet. "Are you alright?" asked Thorin, though there were several questions lying just beneath the surface of the one he chose.
I glanced back over the edge of the veranda at Arwen – who had sat by now, still halfway watching the weird clumsy girl make a moron of herself – and then back to my companion, my nod a little fast. Thorin had followed my gaze and looked to me once more, thankfully understanding the topic could be shelved for a few minutes until we were away from here.
Once we had picked up what glass we could, we vacated the balcony and dropped off the shards in a stupidly-hard-to-find wastebasket. I had seen some surreal shit in Middle Earth, but somehow, none of it could beat doing something so ordinary as trying to find a trashcan with Thorin Oakenshield. Were the inhabitants of Rivendell just against convenience or what?
With the Company's ruckus guiding us better than memory, we returned to the familiar hallway that led to their camping area. Around the corner, I could hear Bofur belting out some ditty about a sheep thinking it was a cloud because a shepherd told it as much. (Yeah, hell if I know.)
Thorin slowed to a stop midway down the hall, and I followed suite, knowing exactly what he wanted. With his arms crossed and his face expectant, Thorin didn't even have to voice the question.
'That woman was Elrond's daughter. Arwen,' I signed to him. 'She is important in a different story.' Pretty harmless information, though 'important' was putting it mildly. It wasn't like she was the future wife of Isildur's Heir or something.
"How so?" Thorin asked, though I could tell regardless of her parentage, he did not overly care about this Elf. Or any. Let's be real.
With a knowing smile, I said, 'Cannot tell you. Story is in the future.'
This only succeeded in making his brows furrow slightly, probably wondering what the point in even bringing it up was then.
I thought for a moment, recalling the other night. 'Remember Galadriel?'
"Aye, the Elf witch," Thorin said a little bit more suspiciously.
'Arwen is her granddaughter,' I told him.
This elicited some sort of interest, at least, and the King asked in a salty tone, "Does she, too, read the minds of others without their permission?"
My coughing snickers as I shook my head were not appreciated, judging by the look he gave, which only made me smile more. However, though Thorin tried to keep his face unimpressed, the amusement at my lightheartedness on the subject remained visible in his eyes.
I was enjoying this. Us. Hanging out. Being friends and shit.
When I realized I had been staring at his lovely blue eyes for a fraction longer than normal, I turned my gaze down the hall, probably too fast to be inconspicuous. Trying to act casual, I incorporated the turn into a head tilt, suggesting we carry on to where the others were again.
Thorin gave a nod and we continued, though whether or not he noticed anything out the ordinary with my awkward behavior, I couldn't say. I was always a little awkward.
The rest of the Company were caught up arguing over what song Bofur should go for next, yelling out suggestions that I obviously didn't recognize the titles of. Thorin and I parted ways, with him heading back to his former seat, and me trying to wrestle my way back into the circle, grabbing a stray glass of wine that was about to get knocked over. Though, looking around and noting two or three other broken glasses on the ground, I didn't feel quite as bad about my own mishap anymore. Maybe this was why Dwarves seemed to favor mugs.
I tried to focus on the boisterous Bofur, perhaps a little tipsy himself by now, singing alongside Nori, though the latter was doing an entirely different tune. They squabbled in between lyrics as they pushed one another, making it hard to understand what either song was supposed to be about.
"Over river stays the man – you just wait yer turn now! – with seven doves and –"
" –no, no, this one's a classic – With naught but robe, the lady danced and to him strode –"
" – What're ye doing? Classic it may be, but we're in mixed company!"
"It's just a bit of culture!"
"Culture my – pick somethin' else! Like this, if you'd just – And two wrinkled hands! 'So old, so old,' the doves sang one morn –"
And it just kept going.
Despite this mayhem that should have been a thorough distraction, my thoughts kept gravitating towards that side of the room where I knew Thorin was at. Repeatedly, I kept telling myself that my idiocy was nothing. My reactions were normal because yes, he was a very brave, attractive, strong-willed individual who would do anything for his people, and yes, I did get attached to things too easily, but that wasn't the point –
You're just glad because he knows about the story now, that's all. Stop over-thinking this, I mentally insisted. Of course, trying not to think of something only makes you think of it more.
Promptly, I began downing wine with a new vigor, despite the fact that I had no idea who this glass belonged to. Cooties be damned, there was simply not enough alcohol in my system to deal with these thoughts. I may have been dumber than a bowl of rocks sometimes, but I knew the signs. I knew what was trying to sprout in my little potato heart.
However, I was not – under any circumstances – allowed to fall for Thorin Oakenshield.
;)
I was tempted to just call this chapter The Fanservice, but figured that would be too blunt.
You are all absolute dears and this story just wouldn't be possible without your support. As always, I'll ask for your thoughts on the chapter, cuz that's what I'm best at. We're finally getting to some romance? What?! LoL well, maybe not romance yet, but the stirrings of something, anyway. ;)
Also, concerning the Iglishmêk thing. A lot of you have mentioned it, and I myself agree that she learned it a little too fast, but I only realized as these chapters came up. The plot was demanding her competency with the Iglishmêk a lot sooner than I planned, and… yeah. I'm only human, so thank you guys for being so nice and actually leaving constructive messages about it. :)
Also also: If you're wondering when the ever-loving-hell they're going to leave Rivendell – it's the next chapter. They're leaving in the next chapter, I swear. I think we're ALL tired of Rivendell at this point, so don't worry. XD
Hopefully I won't be gone so long this time. I've missed this story.
Until next time, folks! :)
